Healing
by jaimi-or-jaemi
Summary: Choices can have life altering affects as most superhumans can attest, so Peter and Steve are both aware of some of the affects that their choices in regards to their favorite assassins are going to have, some of the other affects are completely unexpected. Part of the Pack Verse, sub-series Heroes Verse. Please read tags/warnings on first chapter
1. Chapter 1: Helping

**Primary Relationships:** Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Wade Wilson, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers

 **TAGS/WARNINGS** : Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Friends to Lovers, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Poly-V Relationship, Injury, Depression, Mental Health Issues, Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Play, Dom Peter, Sub Wade, Dom Bucky Barnes, Violence, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Peter

This is my first foray into the Marvel Verse, with my own twists and turns since I have added it to my Pack Verse.

Beyond that, its been a while since I saw any of the shows/movies or read any of the comics, though I have done both (at least some), since the Marvel Verse changes canon depending on what's happening, I will be drawing inspiration from different parts that I recall, like, or fit.

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Peter's POV  
He has been a superhero for nearly six years, and Avenger for just over two. Just a little over five years ago he had met the Merc with the Mouth, also known as Deadpool, and to a small number of people Wade Wilson. He still hasn't figured out how he got on that list.

Still, he likes the merc despite the fact he wishes he didn't sometimes. Wade can be difficult. Particularly since they have totally opposite ways of dealing with problems and situations.

So when he finds Deadpool surround by a bunch of dead thugs and druggies, his body blown to pieces because someone was stupid, he makes a rather life altering choice. At least he is sure it is going to be a life altering choice.

Carefully he makes a cocoon around the downed merc, making sure to retrieve all of his parts before calling Steve and telling him that he might want to send someone to check the warehouse and quickly filling him in on the scene he has discovered. He also requests all information on Deadpool be sent to his apartment which seems to both worry and confuse the super soldier but he agrees to it.

Once that is done, he lifts the cocoon and leaves the bloodbath behind, carrying the injured merc attached to his back as he swings to his home. Opening the window and climbing in with more than six foot of merc is not the easiest thing in the world, but he still manages to pull it off.

"Bed or sofa?" he mutters to himself, "Better yet, the futon."

Still moving carefully, he gets it opened and made without taking Wade off his back. Once he feels that he is as ready as he can be, he lays the web cocoon and its cargo on the folded out bed and opens it up to see how much healing the merc has already done.

"Not nearly as much as I expected," he mutters when he sees the mess the older man still is. It looks like his limbs have started healing, but his torso and head are still in shambles. Actually, he can see the skin growing around part of the leather and spandex outfit. "I know you're not going to be happy about this, and I will willingly accept yelling later, but it looks like the remains of the suit are coming off."

Fetching his sewing scissors, he carefully cuts the ruined suit off of the merc, determining that it is beyond saving when he sees how much damage has been done to it. It takes him nearly thirty-five minutes to get the entire thing off and with every piece he pulls out he can visibly see the older man's body repairing itself. Well that's good. After trashing all the shredded pieces of the suit, including the mask with the gaping hole

Since there is dried blood and guts all over the older man's body, he fetches a few warm wash clothes and gently washes the older man's body. He is rather thankful Wade was wearing a pair of boy-shorts under the suit or he'd be completely naked since he cut of the suits remains and took the combat boots off to clean them up.

Not going to think about the fact that he is a well-built man from top to bottom with plenty of reasons to stare in an appreciative way, he tells himself. Nope, not doing it. Wade is already going to be pissed when he wakes without anything but underwear and a sheet on. No reason to annoy him with ogling. Though going by past conversations, the merc would probably just laugh at him. Deadpool is a flirt after all.

Of course, this is probably going to surprise the older man too. In the years they have known each other neither has moved his mask any further what it takes to eat. In Wade's case he knows it is because he is ashamed and very self-conscious of the scarring covering his body. In his case it was more of a request from Wade, he hadn't wanted to know what he looks like, and had enjoyed being anonymous in that manner.

Shaking his head, he double checks to make sure that there is no lingering blood or innards before taking the wash clothes directly to the washer, stripping out of his suit to wash it, and turning them on. Grabbing a sheet and a light blanket, he returns to the living room, carefully laying both over his unconscious house guest. Next up is closing the window since he forgot to do that earlier, and that really is an important thing.

He is just getting ready to make some food when he hears a knock at the door, along with a man calling out, "Delivery from Stark Industries."

Striding to the door, he quickly opens it, signing the tablet and accepting the box without barely a blink. Carrying the box into his kitchen, he sets it on the counter and breaks the seal on it. At the top of the pile is a short note from Steve.

- _Peter_  
 _Be careful with Deadpool, and doubly careful with Wade. It's a known fact he is not the most stable of a person, but there is no reason to make things worse. Here are the documents you requested. Every bit of history I could get my hands on, it is my belief that the 'military agency' that did the Weapon X program was run by Hydra. I have not yet found proof of this, however some of what was done to him is extremely similar to the condition I had once found Bucky in. If you need assistance, call me ASAP.  
_ SR-

Blinking, he glances over the counter towards the living room where the older man is still out like a light. He knows about Hydra's projects, he remembers the information from when he helped Mr. Stark and Bruce go through it three years previously and again a year later. That had been horrid, and he had spent every free minute taking it out on the criminals of the city. So if Wade went through even a fraction of the atrocities he had read in those files, well that would explain a lot about the merc.

Heading into the living room, he checks his guest, finding that he has shifted from being unconscious to actually sleeping. He is relieved to see this, and returns to his kitchen to start going through the files, keeping his senses open so he knows when the merc wakes up. Carefully he goes over the documents, starting at the oldest, and moving through to current times.

According to the very oldest documents his name is Wade Thomas Williams, while all the newer ones have it recorded as Wade Winston Wilson. They matched them by DNA rather than by name. As he goes through the documents, he learns a great deal about the sleeping merc. He is a Canadian by birth, but also a citizen of the United States, and spent part of his childhood in Japan. The cancer that caused him to join the Weapon X program runs in through his mother's side of the family and had killed every relative on that side.

The tortures he had gone through during the conversion into Deadpool were massive, and he agrees with Steve's assessment that the program is very much like a Hydra program. No wonder he is the way he is. It was probably the only way his mind could cope. Add to it an inability to die and never ending pain because the cancer that never went away and it explained so much. It wasn't surprise that he didn't value life, his or anyone else.

Well damn, he thinks as he puts the files away and goes to check on his guest. Still sleeping, odd, he doesn't strike him as the sort to sleep. Glancing at the window he realizes how dark it is, and decides it is time to turn the lights out. He'll sleep out here in a web-hammock so he can make sure Wade is alright through the night.

He doesn't need to go through any of the other papers, he already has a really good idea as to what the host of problems are. Now how to help him, because he wants to help him. That is going to be one of the most important things he can do.

Quietly he makes his resting place for the evening, does his nightly rituals, checking Wade one last time before turning out all of the lights and climbing into his hammock.

He has just drifted off when he hears the first low whimpers, making his eyes snap open. Sitting up, he glances over to the sofa, spotting the merc twitching and hearing the low whining noises that are escaping his lips.

Getting off the hammock, he quickly moves over, settling beside him and debating for a moment whether to try waking him up or not. No, that's not going to work, he doesn't know exactly what's with Wade's mental state, but he is sure whatever it is touching him is not a good idea just yet.

Instead he starts quietly crooning, "Shh, it's alright, you're safe Wade, it's alright."

He uses a quick burst of web to turn on his desk light, happy it is the push type.

Almost as soon as he does so, the merc starts to calm down again, though his breathing is still rough.

"I don't know if you can hear me, or if your mind is being too loud, but you're okay, no one is going to come after you here, you trust me in the field, you can trust me here." He continues in the same low tone, attempting for calm and reassuring. He continues to stay by his side, gently talking, repeating himself and aiming to be relaxing.

It is not until the merc calms down that he finally moves, heading over to the hammock to lay down again but he doesn't turn the light off. It was the dark that had triggered this episode, so he will leave the light on, it's not like light bothers him.

This time he gets to sleep for just over three hours before another set of whines and whimpering wakes him.

Getting up again, he returns to his perch beside the older man, crooning softly again. It doesn't take as long this time for Wade to fade back into a more peaceful sleep.

Since he is now awake, he heads into the kitchen, scooping the box up and carrying it to his room where he tucks it in the closet before heading to the small computer in the living room. Getting it going, he decides to do some research, he is a science and film major, but psychology is not a subject he had looked into that much. So it's time to figure out if he can determine the main problems the merc is facing and then ways to deal with them. Bipolar depression is a given, as is low self-esteem and schizophrenia, probably PTSD, CER, and borderline personality disorder. There is overlap between a lot of those issues, and quite possible that he doesn't have all of them all the time, based on the fact there are minute changes in his behavior after every suicide and mission where he officially 'dies'.

Now how to help him?

He gets up, stretching and checking on his guest before he returns to his research. There are a lot of different suggestions. Some are completely ridiculous, others are logical like the list of suggestions off of the VA website, but the set he likes most actually come from a BDSM blog.

– _Sometimes a person needs help, but it is not the sort of help they can get from a doctor or program. In those cases, remembering the cycle of a healthy BDSM relationship can be used as a way to help the person in need. It is important to remember the five steps, and make sure to use them. Those five steps for those new to the scene are: Communication, Agreement, Scene/Play/Situation, Aftercare, and Debrief. In the early days of using those five tenants, the steps may be a daily process. Later on it might develop to a point with long periods between the steps. The emotional tenants of BDSM apply as well. Those are: Trust, Honesty, and Respect. While it will never be a miracle cure, and it will take time and practice, but it can help to lead to a better future._ –

He had stared at the screen after reading that blog note, just a simple little thing on a random search but it actually makes sense. A lot of sense actually. Particularly when he starts going through the links connected to that blog and the definitions it gives with each.

"This might be the best idea yet," he mutters as he closes the last of it and wipes his history.

Heading into the kitchen to start making food because he is sure Wade will be waking up soon, and he can remember Logan mentioning that healing makes his metabolism go crazy and he gets extremely hungry as a side effect. That is probably true for Wade as well.

What does the merc eat? Pancakes, tacos, and pizza are all things they have had together in the past. Well he has the stuff for pancakes and its regular sides such as eggs, bacon, and sausage. So he will make that, a complete breakfast with all the sides he can find in his fridge. Good thing he had just gone shopping two days ago, or there would be a lot less food readily available.

Best check on him one more time before starting this cooking project.

What he discovers is the merc sweating profusely, so he heads to the bathroom to get a moist, cool wash cloth, a dry towel, and a clean, dry sheet. Returning to the living room, he takes the blanket and sheet off the older man's body, throwing the sheet on the floor since it is wet and letting the blanket rest beside him on the futon. With feathery touches, he washes the sweat from the merc, before drying him with the towel, and laying the sheet over him. Checking his temperature, he discovers a raging fever, and covers him back up the rest of the way with the blanket.

The entire time he is working, he talks softly to the older man, hoping that it brings him some small measure of comfort. When he is sure he has done as much as he can, he goes to make all of the breakfast foods. He has just finished up the bacon when his ears catches the difference in Wade's breathing as the older man finally comes too.

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Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

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	2. Chapter 2: Waking Up

() whitebr /  
{} yellowbr /  
' ' Wade directing internal thoughts to them

Unlike the comics where the yellow white are outside voices he can hear in his head, in this they are facets of his personality that have splintered due to trauma. It is based off how a friend described his own voices and not something I have personally had to deal with, so any views from people who have had to deal with similar are welcome. No insult is meant to those folks.

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Wade's POV  
The first thing he notices as he wakes up is the fact he is surprisingly comfortable, in minimum amount of pain, and warm. Since those three things never happen to him at one time or actually ever that he can remember in recent years when he is first waking up from getting killed unless he has been caught by someone who wants to run experiments on him. His fight or flight, though more of the fight response, flares to life.

Almost immediately a familiar voice is there, just outside his line of vision, gentle and crooning, "Wade? It's alright. Just relax, you're in my apartment, you're safe, promise."

He just about growls as he sits up, pushing the bedding off, and blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he looks around. It's a nice apartment, not too big, with plenty of window space and they seem to be higher up. Who the hell would carry him to this level? As his eyes sweep the room, they fall on a rather pixie like young man perched on the arm of the sofa that the futon he is seated on is part of.

When the cold air hits his skin, he gasps, head jerking to look down and realizing he is only wearing that blanket and his underwear. What the fuck? Where's his suit? Where's his mask? Why the fuck is he laying on a futon in nothing but underwear and bedding? The pixie must be like Matt, 'cause there is no way he could stand looking at him without having issues with his scars. No one has ever just accepted them.

A familiar smile curves the pixie's lips, "Feeling better?"

He knows the voice, has heard it millions of times, in millions of situations, as a foe, a friend, and an ass-kicking partner.

"You didn't," he growls, having a pretty good idea of who the pixie is, dragging the blankets up around himself and glaring for all he is worth.

{He's fucking hot!}

(Younger than we thought though. I know we're demented but does that make it worse?)

"Shut it!" he growls under his breath, really not wanting to listen to them right now. He has to figure out how the fuck he got here, and how to forget it all. Right now. He won't risk who he is pretty sure that is.

{How sure? You just thought he was like Matt and seeing but not seeing.}

(He has a point, you did think that.)

"Both you shut up," he snaps, wanting to figure this out, not listen to them.

That smile just quirks a bit, but nothing comes out of the pixie's mouth, at least not then.

The pixie does a flip, landing on his feet, and leaves the room without ever commenting or the smile fading. A few minutes later the pixie returns with a large plate of pancakes in one hand and sides in the other.

As he approaches the futon, the pixie comments, "My healing always makes me hungry, Steve and Logan have both said their healing makes them hungry, so I am guessing the same applies to you."

"Spidey!" he just about hisses from his spot within the blankets, "That was the stupidest thing you ever did."

Shaking his head, the younger man disagrees with him, "No it wasn't. I mean, be honest here Wade, you probably could have figured out my name and how I look anytime if you wanted. I might not like your job, but you're good at it." Pausing to flash him a bright smile, setting one of the plates down closer to him, the pixie frowns as if considering something before shaking his head slightly. "Peter," Spidey remarks, his smile returning but becoming gentle, a warm look in his eyes, "like this the name's Peter."

Why does he have a warm look in his eyes? Spidey shouldn't be smiling or looking at him like that!

(Definitely crazy, no other explanation, we should definitely keep him.)

As he growls low in his throat, Spidey inquires, "The boxes being loud today?" Turning slightly towards the kitchen area and slinging out a thin web, the pixie continues, "Now what would you prefer: pancakes, which are not nearly as good as yours, or these side dishes? It's too early for tacos."

"Never too early for taco," he grumbles in response, eyeing the plates.

Snorting, the pixie pulls the web back, revealing a napkin with silverware.

He eyes the offering of food, glancing between the food and the pixie. His baby boy was a pixie. Who would have guessed? Definitely not him. Why had his baby boy done this? Spidey knows how much he didn't want to show his face or see the younger man's. That he worries he might do something stupid with that information. That he wants Spidey safe. So why would he do this? It doesn't make sense.

(Maybe he is crazy as us?)

{We're pretty fucked up, I don't think he is that fucked up. Maybe he has a danger kink.}

(Well that's a given. We've seen, hell ridden along with, him when he is moving through the city. That must require some danger kink.)

"Shut up," he mutters, closing his eyes and focusing on the boxes, 'Quiet, I need to figure out what to do.'

(Well he isn't running, flinching, or blind. I say we keep him!)

{We could, he's so flexible, sex would probably be loads of fun!}

Groaning, he rubs a hand across his face. He's trying to ignore the fact that his nasty skin is visible, that his baby boy actually saw and touched it, and that he now has Spidey's beautiful pixie face in person, he is sure his crush is going to bloom into something far bigger. He doesn't want to fall in love with him, there is no way that this, whatever this is, is going to last. So he is not going to call his baby boy by his name. He'll keep calling him Spidey or baby boy or even pixie since he looks like a pixie, but not Peter.

"Yes," he grumbles, "They think I should keep you."

The pixie's smile seems to grow, mischief filling his eyes, "Well that's not a bad idea. Actually I wanted to talk to you about that."

(Wait, what? He doesn't think that's a bad idea? Did he hit his head? What does he want to talk about?)

{See even your baby boy thinks keeping him is good. We get to keep him, he's ours!}

"Spidey, Petey, that's not a good idea, you have to realize that's not a good idea." He tells the younger man seriously, or as serious as he gets. "I mean seriously, we disagree about work and morals, and I'm insane, just ask anyone, they'll tell you."

"Work: sometimes, though I have noticed the cut back in 'let's kill them jobs' for you in the last year or so as you hang out with me more. Morals: well except the killing of folks I think we get along pretty well there. As for insane, that's part of your charm. Besides I am sure there are folks who call me insane for my swinging through the city on thin thread."

Still smiling, Peter offers him the silverware, "Come on Wade, eat up, you can be pissed and argue with me afterwards."

(He's offering to argue?)

{Keep him! Keep him! Keep him!}

Spidey has a point, he thinks, he has cut back his killing missions. It made his baby boy smile, so it wasn't that hard to find other missions to do. Not when he loved seeing his baby boy's lips curve with that pleased smile. But this, this is insane. Sure, they hadn't discussed the seeing each other's face or him knowing Peter's name in months, he thought the subject was closed. So why had his baby boy done this now?

"Why?" he demands as he decides that coming out of the blankets a bit to eat is not going to hurt anything. It's too late to keep Peter from seeing his hideous form.

Snagging a slice of bacon, the younger man munches on it before replying, "Easy enough, you were injured and I was not taking you back to that pigsty that you call an apartment to heal." Shrugging, the pixie continues, "I brought you home instead. Debated about sofa, bed, or futon, went with the futon. Decided I didn't want to be cleaning up dried blood, and noticed that your chest was not healing anyways. Had fun removing the leathers and spandex, they were destroyed, quite literally and thoroughly. Actually need to go fetch some clothes for you since I am sure you don't want to be stuck in just the sheet though I appreciate the view." Giving a small shake of his head, Peter mutters, "Sorry, off topic." Smiling again, his voice picks up again, "Figured I would rather you be pissed about me violating your privacy then have you stay in more pain then you had to. Did a little research about mental health and any ways I could be of help if you want the help."

He stares at Spidey like he is spouting some unknown language. He must have been hearing things. There is no way that he heard that right. Peter didn't say what he thinks he did. No way could such a beautiful, pixie person think he was good looking, not without his leathers or something, he's too ugly. It's not possible. Yeah, today is a good day, at least it feels like one which is a shock considering he was dead, and normally waking up from being dead leads to bad days, but that is not the point!.

Shaking his head a bit and knocking the sheet thrown over his head loose so his scars are showing again, he tugs the plate of pancakes closer and accepts the silverware to eat them.

'What am I going to do?' he thinks at the boxes, hoping they have something useful to add to the conversation. He doesn't want to keep looking at Peter 'cause he knows sooner or later he is going to see disgust in those beautiful eyes. There is no way to avoid that. He's disgusting and he is well aware of it.

{Keep him! He's totally worth keeping!}

(You can't see it, but I am nodding in agreement. Who else would rather have you mad at them then have you in pain?)

'That's a good point,' he thinks, "but still I'm an insane merc with nothing to offer."

A light hand barely touches his shoulder, drawing his attention back to pixie Peter, "Don't you think I should be the judge of what you have to offer or not?"

His eyes widen in shock, he was thinking wasn't he? Not speaking aloud, how did his baby boy hear him?

"Yes, you muttered the last point, and if I didn't have keener than average hearing I probably would have missed it, but I heard it, so I am answering it." Peter replies, apparently reading his question in his face since he knows he didn't say anything with his mouth full of pancakes.

The pixie swipes another slice of bacon and nibbles on it.

"You shouldn't have done that," he grumbling repeats. The Deadpool part of his nature wants to be cocky and self sure. All the things he shows when he is wearing his suit and mask. The Wade part of his nature is too self-conscious of everything wrong with himself to be like that and really would like to just hide until he can do something, anything for this not to have happened. There is no way he will be able to keep the friendship that he's had worked hard for over the last few years.

(Five years, three months, and fourteen days since you met him. Good going. Longest relationship and you blew it trying to do the right thing.)

"Shut up," he mutters before taking another bite of the pancake. These pancakes are better than he expected. "Thank you," he mumbles a bit louder.

"You're welcome Wade, I hope they are alright." Peter tells him gently.

"They're fine," he mumbles before taking another one.

(So he can cook, why is he so slender then?)

{Because that fine ass burns it all off swinging around on those surprisingly strong webs. Hey! Web sex, you should totally get him to do that!}

'Shut up!' he snarls at the voices in his head.

They eat the rest of the meal in relative quiet, from time to time, he watches out of the corner of his eye as Peter snitches little bites of food off the second plate, but he leaves most of the food alone. He's still hungry when the plates are empty, but doesn't want to say anything. He knows that Spidey has a far smaller income than him and probably can't afford to give him the amount of food he needs after regenerating so much. Not that he plans to say something.

Of course his body has to disagree with that, and his stomach rumbles loudly.

"Still hungry?" the pixie queries.

Biting his dry lip, he doesn't actually want to answer, but again his stomach rumbles, so he just nods.

"Alright, I'll go make more food, I wasn't sure that was going to be enough." Standing, Peter scoops up the empty plates, and heads towards the door to the kitchen. A moment later he pops out with empty hands and comments, "If you look in the bottom drawer of my dresser, there might be some sweats you could fit, just thought about that outfit that I was given as a gag gift my last year of high school. Dunno if they will fit, but they might, at least it might be more comfortable for you then that blanket. I want you to be comfortable."

Before he has a chance to answer, Peter vanishes back into the kitchen and he hears him rooting through the fridge, opening doors and drawers and pulling stuff out.

He glances around the room again, trying to decide whether he wants to go check or not.

(He did give you permission to look in the drawer.)

{Go snoop! Go Snoop!}

"I'm not going to snoop through baby boy's things," he mutters to himself as he gets up, making sure the blankets stay tight around himself. At least the blanket is big enough to cover his entire body. Actually, why is this blanket so big? Does Peter have that big of a bed? Curiously, despite the fact he had just declared he was not going to snoop, he starts looking around, not actually opening anything, but paying close attention to all of the details that he can see. When he is done with the living room, he goes to the other door that is open and peers in, spotting the fact this is the bedroom and there is a bathroom through the side door.

"Go ahead and use the shower if you want, I know sponge baths don't match running water," he hears his baby boy call out from the kitchen.

(He gave us a sponge bath and still doesn't mind the scars? The other us is right, we should keep him. I cannot think of anyone else who would act the same.)

{Sex! We can totally have sex with him! He's as messed up as us. Let's do it!}

(Slowly here, we don't want to scare him off.)

{He's already seen our worthless, nasty, ugly mug and hasn't run.}

"Shut up," he growls, trying to focus on the room instead. "Bottom drawer right?"

(Yes, bottom drawer.)

{Look through the rest. We can sniff his panties! See if he has any cute dresses! Ass like that probably has a few dresses somewhere!}

"No," he mutters, "Not going through baby boy's drawers."

{Piece of shit.}

(Ignore that, you're doing the right thing.)

He still flinches at the voices bickering in his head, he wants to do the right thing here. Kneeling beside the dresser, he tugs only the bottom drawer open, eyes widening when he sees all the sweats in there. There is something that might fit him in that? He almost doesn't want to look because it's so orderly and he is sure he would make a mess of it. Still, he doesn't like only having underwear and a blanket as clothing.

Reaching out, he shuffles through the clothing until he spots some that have the same fold pattern but cover a larger area. Pulling it out and unfolding, he glances over it and sighs in relief, they might be big enough. Straightening, he heads to the bathroom, glancing around at the slightly larger than his bathroom.

It's neat and orderly like everything else in the apartment. There are two large fluffy towels hanging by the shower-bath, a collection of soaps and creams sitting on the counter, a luffa hanging in the shower with a washcloth right beside it, and a note stuck to the towel over the mirror. Why is there a note on a towel over the mirror?

-Wade,  
 _I_ _remember you mentioning you dislike your reflection, so I put an extra towel over it. Also use whichever towel hanging up you want, both are fresh. I also remembered that we discussed the fact your skin gets irritated easily. I didn't know if you were ever going to use my shower or not, however there is a small collection of lotions and creams designed to lessen pain and itchiness. I may have gone a little overboard one night when I couldn't sleep and was in the lab. If any work tell me and I will make more.  
_ Peter-

He blinks, shocked because they had that conversation two years ago, maybe longer.

(Two year, four months, and twenty one days. We were eating dinner together atop the building on Fifth Street.)

Why does the voice in his head know that? Should that worry him?

It is such a sweet thing. He never would have guessed that Spidey cared so much. Why does he care so much? They're friends. Sort of. He's pretty sure its pity on baby boy's side.

(Is it though? Is it really? Do you honestly think he would let you into his home, make lotion and cream just for you, and tell you his name if he didn't think you were friends?)

{Keep him! We could be having regular sex or getting our brains fucked out!}

"Will you two shut up, I am still trying to think," he grumbles as he sort of folds the blanket and sheet, laying them on the empty space on the counter next to the sweats. Glancing at the mirror, he is actually grateful it is covered. He doesn't have to deal with looking at himself. Right now he has enough on his plate without remembering exactly what sort of monster he looks like.

Turning the water on, he lets it heat up while he stares at it, still thinking.

"Peter," he murmurs trying the name out on his tongue, "Petey." Why did the pixie let him know his name or what he looks like? He doesn't understand. It's a risk. He's a risk. He could hurt his baby boy without ever trying. Hasn't Spidey learned that in the time they have shared together?

{He gave you a sponge bath! Too bad you were a nasty piece of dead garbage at the time. Probably the only time he's ever going to touch your disgusting self.}

"Weren't you just telling me we could have sex?" he mutters angrily, thinking that this new thing is probably truer.

{Yes but its pity sex. Still better than our worthless self deserves.}

(Don't listen to him, he is showing all indications of actually caring about us. Don't fuck it up by being stupid.)

{We're nothing but a piece of worthless garbage. Nobody gives a damn about us.}

"Stop. No more. Just stop." He mutters as he squeezes his eyes shut and climbing into the shower, closing the curtain behind himself. "No more. Not today. I know I am worthless. But stop. Just for a little bit."

His hands wash his body mechanically as he mutters to himself.

A soft knock at the bathroom door pulls his attention away from the voices in his head. More yellow than white.

"Wade, the foods is almost done, coffee or juice?" he hears his pixie ask.

"Coffee," he answers forcing himself to speak loud enough to be heard over the water.

What the fuck? Normally he is loud enough to be heard over an explosion!

{You don't want him realizing how shitty we are!}

(You're trying to be polite. Polite is good.)

"Okay, I'll go make some for you, take your time if you want, I'll make sure everything stays warm." Peter tells him before leaving the room without waiting for him answer anything else.

"Shut up," he grumbles again, shifting his focus to finishing washing up.

When he is done, he gets out of the shower. Quickly drying without focusing on the fact his skin isn't peeling as bad as normal or how soft the towel is, or that despite being a little shirt short on him the pants fit fine. Now he just wishes he had some socks, gloves, and a mask. He skips right over the lotions, not because he doesn't want to try, but because he wants to get some food. Afterwards, if his baby boy doesn't mind, he will use the lotion.

Returning to the living room with the blankets and dressed in the mostly comfortable sweats, he nervously stops just outside the bedroom door. He could grab his boots and leave right now. Escape before Spidey realizes what a mistake he's made

He is still in the middle of debating it when Peter exits the kitchen with more plates of food, a bright and warm smile when he sees him.

This has to be a hallucination. I have to still be dead. He thinks as he stares at that expression that cannot be real.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Tumblr about mine & other peoples stories: JaimiStoryTeller

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	3. Chapter 3: the Offer

Peter's POV  
After telling the merc that he has the rest of the food just about done and finding out what he prefers to drink, he goes to make up the biggest plates he owns, covering it in the few pieces of meat that finally defrosted enough to cook, potatoes, more bacon, eggs, and several peanut butter smothered bagels. Since he has a lovely and large travel mug, he fills it with coffee. He should have asked if Wade would want cream, milk, or sugar in his coffee.

Whatever, he'll ask when he feels comfortable enough to emerge from the bathroom.

Shoving the plates in the oven, he listens carefully for the bathroom door to open so he can pull the still warm food out.

When he had went to ask Wade whether he wanted coffee or juice, he had heard some of the muttering, not because he was trying to but because his senses are a bit better than he likes to admit. Unfortunately, that means he knows exactly what sort of self-hate Wade is feeling right now. How to be supportive of him? Well today might not be the best time to have the conversation, but at the same time maybe it would help to know there is someone who wants to be there and help him?

Of course, he has already decided he is going to invite the older man to stay. There is a second bedroom, though it is currently full of stuff. He could easily get it cleaned out and move himself in there. He doesn't need a lot of space after all, and then Wade could use the larger room, or the other way around. Doesn't matter to him, he just wants to know his friend has somewhere safe to be mentally and physically.

'Cause I totally didn't check him out in the leathers or even more once he was out of them and I was giving him a sponge bath, his mind taunts him, gezz I need a date. Wait. No I don't.

His thoughts are interrupted, which is probably good, by the sound of the bathroom door opening. Grabbing the plates with food, he heads to the living room, smiling at the rather adorable sight of Wade wearing sweats that are almost the right size and the blanket wrapped around him like a shawl.

"I have two more random plates of food," he comments, motioning to the futon that he has folded back into a sofa.

For a moment he wonders if Wade is planning on bolting, because that is the impression he gets from the merc. Instead, the older man shuffles over to the sofa and folds himself on it, making sure his body is completely wrapped in the blankets.

Setting the plate beside the merc, he inquires, "Straight coffee, cream, milk, or sugar?"

Blinking at him, the merc replies, "Black with extra sugar."

Nodding, he turns and heads into the kitchen to finish making the coffee. As he exits the kitchen, he scoops his smaller plate up so he can eat without snitching off the older man's plate. In the living room he finds Wade sitting with the plate resting on his lap, picking at the food.

"Here's your coffee," he remarks, offering the cup.

"Thanks," his guest mutters, not looking at him as he takes it.

"You're welcome," he replies.

Sitting on the other side of the sofa, he eats his food, occasionally glancing at Wade to check on the older man.

It's peaceful, sitting together and eating in companionable silence. He could easily see this being a daily thing. He could even see them eventually falling back into their easy banter. It is easy to understand that the merc is both mad at him and self conscious of his body.

When his guest sets the plate aside, he tilts his head and queries, "Still hungry or good?"

"I'm good," Wade answers in a subdued tone, far too quiet for his normal energetic self.

Nodding, he finishes his plate and sets it aside.

The silence which had been peaceful while eating starts to get tense.

Better get this conversation going sooner than later, he thinks, already going to be a bit awkward.

"Let's talk for a few minutes," he announces with a hopefully reassuring smile.

"Do we have to?" the merc grumbles.

"I think so, yeah," he replies, nodding once. "Any grumbling or yelling you feel like doing?"

A shake of his head is all the merc does in response.

"Okay, well if you decide you wanna yell in a bit, feel free." He informs the taller man as he turns to face him fully.

A hairless brow arches in response, crystalline eyes watching him closely as if waiting for something.

"Do you like your apartment here in the city?" he asks, then thinks he might be going about this wrong. Too late now.

"Doesn't really matter," Wade mutters, "You want me to leave the city."

"What?" he is startled by the idea, "No. Hell no. I was going to see if you wanted to stay here, this place has two rooms, though I sort of have the second used as storage right now, it wouldn't be a big deal to get it cleaned up so I could shift myself in there. I started this conversation in the middle rather than the beginning or something."

Several minutes pass in silence as the merc stares at him, crystal eyes watching him in disbelief. Finally, he questions, "You're serious?"

"Yeah, of course," he replies with a nod, "Completely serious. I think it would be good for both of us. I have a really bad habit of forgetting to eat when I get into a project. I have a feeling that you are lonely at times."

Body tensing, Wade nods once, not saying much but pulling the blankets around himself a bit tighter.

"Of course there'd be a few rules, mainly make sure your laundry gets into a laundry basket or the washer, no killing yourself, and no killing the neighbors." He comments with a playful smile, hoping to get his favorite merc's sense of humor engaged.

The corner of the older man's lips twitch but he still doesn't smile. "What about company? I have a hard time with people coming in my place."

He nods in understanding, "Well my Aunt May is the only one who comes around, and that's not all that often. I go to her house more often." He pauses for a moment before commenting, "Steve comes over occasionally too. Mostly when the others in the tower is being too annoying."

Again his companion simply nods with a pensive on his face.

"I figure we can figure things out as we go, it might be a little touch and go to start with but I think it would work." He continues, watching his friends with a tilt of his head.

Silence falls over them, and while Wade considers the option he stands, taking the dishes to the kitchen and shoving them in the dishwasher before getting them both sodas out of the fridge. While it is tempting to grab a beer, he doesn't want a slight buzz and knows that Wade cannot get drunk. Returning to the living room, he passes the drink before sitting back down, facing the merc, with his legs folded under him.

"Baby boy, I don't understand why you would want me around." Wade mutters after taking a long swig, his entire body is tense and almost vibrating with energy though he is staying rather still beneath the blanket.

"We're friends, and I think it would be good for both of us." He replies promptly.

"But why would you want my hideous ass wandering around here? I'll put you off your food! You need food, you're almost too skinny!" Wade just about exclaims.

Chuckling, he shakes his head, "I ate breakfast and dinner without a single problem. I don't find you hideous."

"How? That doesn't make sense! I am a mass of scars and scabs and nasty skin!" his companion nearly shouts, the first sign of the anger he has been expecting since Wade woke up showing through. That's good, anger is easier to deal with than sadness, at least right now it is.

"Easily," he answers, "You've got beautiful eyes. Yeah, your skin has scars and scabs on it, but that doesn't bother me. I shoot webs out of my wrist, not just the web shooters, but literally out of my wrists." As if to prove a point, he tilts his hand upwards and tightens the muscles, making a rope that goes from him to the ceiling. "I'm a dork who works around odd people, believe me, skin doesn't bother me."

"You'll get tired of me, everyone does. Hell, I don't even know how you have put up with me for so long." Wade grumbles, staring at the blankets wrapped around him.

"We're friends, I don't have a lot of them, and I tend to keep them the best I can," he replies with a grin, "Just think on it yeah? Now how about some Golden Girls, pretty sure I have that on the DVR."

"Hell yeah!" the merc suddenly exclaims, turning towards the TV and acting like he is ignoring the conversation.

He smiles, getting up to turn the TV on, he is quite sure this conversation is not done, however he is good at waiting. Have to be in order to hang off buildings the way he does or work in the science fields like he does.

-o-O-o-

Wade's POV  
(Did Spiderman just ask if we wanted to live with him?)

{Yes, the crazy fuck wants to know if our insane worthless ass wants to live with him. You should keep him for sure. There are no other insane people willing to live with us!}

'Shut up!' he thinks, giving a shake of his head as he watches Peter get up and turn the TV on.

The younger man must have fallen off one of those tall buildings he likes to play on because there is no way he is not damaged in some way. He's fucking hideous, he is well aware of that. Sure, today seems to be a good day, his skin is not oozing or blistering the way it does on bad days, but that's not the point, even with his skin at its clearest it is nasty. Why would Peter want him here?

{Perhaps he needs money and does not want to ask? If you live here he can charge you a lot of money to deal with your shit!}

(Not necessarily a bad thing, it gives us a reason to be around him more without seeming like a stalker.)

{Please, this piece of garbage is totally a stalker! Perving after such a young kid. He's a twink! Maybe younger than a twink!}

(If he was younger than a twink he would have been a preteen when he became Spiderman. That does not seem accurate. He seems to just appear young.)

{Doesn't matter, worthless will just fuck it up anyways. That's the sort of useless he is.}

"Will you two shut up!" he snarls, head dropping to his palms as he presses hard against his temples.

He nearly comes out of his skin when Peter's hand lightly touches his shoulder. "Are you okay?" the younger man murmurs soothingly.

"No! I'm not! They're loud, too loud." He snarls in response, springing to his feet, managing to keep the blanket around himself as he paces.

For several minutes he listens as the two go back and forth in his head, making him feel like he is flying apart as he paces. Suddenly, his pixie inserts himself in front of his path, hands lightly catching his arms, just the lightest of contact but he can feel it through the blankets and sweats covering his nasty skin.

"Focus on me," the hero murmurs, "What are they saying?"

His eyes flicker over the younger man's face, trying to understand the motives. This doesn't make sense. No one cares what the two say. No one cares how they affect him. He's just a piece of garbage that needs to do the world a favor and stay dead. Why is Peter doing this? His baby boy doesn't make any sense! He shouldn't be acting like this. No one has ever acted like this before. Even Captain America tried and gave up on him because he is useless, and Captain America is one of the most patient people he has ever met.

"Please," the younger man requests, "It's alright, I promise, I'll listen."

"Why would you listen? Why should you care? I'm a piece of garbage! They want to know why you would invite me to live with you. Are arguing over whether you're considered a twink or not. Whether this is just your way of getting money without asking." He snarl in response, glaring at the pixie.

"We're friends, friends listen to each other." Spidey replies simply before continuing in a calm voice, "The same can be said for caring. I care because we are friends. It was odd and awkward at first. I'm never sure if the flirting is serious or not, but we're still friends." The younger man's voice gets firm as he keeps speaking, "You are not garbage, I'm the right age to be a twink, however I am not offering to trade sexual favors for anything, and if I needed more money, I would bug Tony into giving me more hours in the lab."

(That is rather logical sounding.)

{Except the friend part, he only pities us!}

"No, he doesn't," he grumbles under his breath, still staring at his pixie's upturned face.

"No he doesn't what?" the smaller man queries with a slight tilt of his head to the side, not breaking eye contact.

He almost feels like looking away because those topaz eyes see way too much, instead he mutters, "You don't pity me." Frowning, he continues, "I don't think anyways."

"Correct, I don't pity you, I wouldn't invite someone to live with me out of pity. I am not that nice." His baby boy tells him with a bit of a smile, "Actually, if you're around me enough I am sure you'll think I am an ass, 'cause I can be. Particularly when I get going on a project and get bothered."

"You're never an ass," he mutters, finally breaking eye contact because it really is too much, "And you are that nice."

Several times the pixie's mouth opens and shuts, before he finally mutters, "I am moderately sure the two people I used to be closest to would tell you I am an ass if you asked. Of course the one wants me dead and the other doesn't want to hear from me."

{Let's find and kill them before they can try to kill our pixie!}

(He's ours. No one is allowed to hurt him.)

He blinks in shock not sure who he is more confused about. Why would Spidey's friend want to kill him? He thought only his friends wanted to kill him. Wait, the only friend he has is Peter. Peter has never tried killing him, his baby boy arrested him a few times, told him to leave town more often then he appreciated during the early years of their relationship, and even told him to die a few times during those early years though he felt bad and apologized for it afterwards.

"You don't have to decide right now, I just want you to know that that is an option." Peter tells him with a warm smile. "I paused the show for you."

He blinks in shock, glancing over at the TV and sure enough it is pause. Impulsively, he throws his arms around his baby boy, giving him a quick hug that he releases before just about prancing over to the sofa and plopping on it facing the TV.

{Good going ugly, why'd you drop the blanket you piece of shit?}

His eyes widen as he realizes that, just as he considers grabbing it, the pixie offers it to him with the same sort of warm smile he has been giving him since he woke up.

(We like that smile. You should keep doing things that cause that smile.)

{Accept the blanket and cover back up hideous. You know that's why he's giving it to you. Fucking monster.}

"Here, not because I want you to cover up, but because I want you to be comfortable," the pixie remarks softly, "I'd be fine with you walking around in just the sweats, but I know you're not fine with that."

He stares at the pixie face, so open and warm, all of it directed towards him. It has to be a lie, no one is that warm when looking at him. But this Peter, Spiderman, his baby boy who hasn't lied to him about anything important. He is pretty sure the young hero considers this important. So he must be telling the truth, but that doesn't make sense. He _is_ hideous, ugly, a monster. He _is_ a worthless piece of garbage that should die and stay dead. He _is_ a nothing but an insane killer and murderer.

When he doesn't take the blanket but continues to stare, Spidey tilts his head slightly, studying him back before opening the blanket up and carefully laying it across and around his shoulders, closing over his front so he can still move his hands and making a slight hood from the sheet which was part of it.

"Whatever negative thing the voices are saying is wrong, Wade," the pixie murmurs as he makes sure the material is not pressing hard against his skin, leaning close enough he can smell the soap and shampoo off him. Straightening, Peter nods and heads into the kitchen without saying anything else.

He gets the impression that his baby boy is trying to give him space.

(He smelled wonderful, and he smiled again, so you must be doing something right!)

{I'm not wrong, you are a hideous monster.}

"Shut up," he growls, pulling the blanket close and smelling Spidey on them, the familiar scent oddly comforting. Instead of focusing on the never ending voices in his head, he focuses on that smell and simply relaxes, or relaxes as best as he ever can. He is in too much pain for it to be too much, but it's low enough right now to ignore.

(You've found him relaxing before. We like him. You should do everything he wants to make him want to keep us.)

{Yes, keep the twisted twink! No one else likes us as much as the twisted twink! You might even get lucky!}

If just Peter's scent is relaxing and makes the voices a bit quieter, it might be worth the torment of living in the same apartment for that relief.

He glances down, staring at his hands, his baby boy told him he does not have to decide right now. But if he doesn't decide right now, the chance are Spidey will just change his mind. After all, who would really wanna live with him?

(This is true. He keeps smiling at us though, and it's a warm smile.)

{So just agree already! I'll even be quiet for a little bit.}

When Peter comes back, he is carrying two steaming mugs. "Hot chocolate?" the pixie inquires, offering him one of the mugs.

He accepts it, sipping at the steaming beverage because he cannot remember the last time anyone just made him hot chocolate to do something nice for him and not because he paid for it. "Yes," he mutters, voice a nearly silent whisper, "I'd like that, if you mean it."

"Then I will get the second room cleaned out in a few minutes and shift my stuff in there," his baby boy apparently heard him, must have better hearing than he realized.

Looking up and over at the younger man, he states, "I don't want to kick you out of your own room."

Peter smiles at him gently, "You're not. I figured you might appreciate the larger room. Besides, the bed in the spare room is a bit small." The younger man's voice turns to a mutter, "And currently a disaster."

Blinking, he tilts his head and studies the pixie for a long minute, before muttering, "I can sleep on the sofa, I don't sleep a lot anyways."

"How's this, I get the room cleaned up and we go day by day yeah?" his baby boy offers with an affectionate expression.

He nods, turning towards the TV and considering the conversation done, though he is not done thinking about it. There is a lot for him to think about.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Tumblr about mine & other peoples stories: JaimiStoryTeller

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	4. Chapter 4: Food and Feeding

Peter's POV  
They end up spending several hours watching the Gold Girls. He keeps their cups full of hot chocolate and a plate of tasty treats between them. While they are watching the show, he makes it a point to keep his eyes on the TV unless they are speaking to each other, not because he doesn't like the way Wade looks, but because he knows the older man is uncomfortable in his skin.

When he notices that Wade seems to be drifting, he quietly suggests, "Hey, why don't you go lay down? I'm gonna run to the store and get a little more food." He smiles before continuing, "Last time I went shopping I wasn't expecting anyone to be eating with me, I am very happy you have been."

The merc gave him a searching look before slowly nodding and getting up, "Are you sure?"

"Of course, the beds much more comfortable than the sofa, dunno if you noticed but you're a good four inches taller than me and the sofa is short for me." There is mischief in his voice and smile.

"I noticed," Wade replies with a tiny smile of his own.

"While I am out, I'll stop at your apartment and pick up some clothes for you, okay?" he inquires softly.

The merc freezes, eyes widening in silent panic.

Quickly he sets to reassuring his friend, "Hey, it's okay, I can just pick something up at the store and you can go to the apartment later. I just figured you might want something a little closer to your size since the shirts a tad small."

"Don't waste your money on me," the taller man mutters, looking anywhere but at him.

Reaching out to lightly touch Wade's chin and draw his focus to him, he replies, "It's not a waste."

For a moment he considers calling Steve and asking if he can come visit with Wade or calling the store and asking for a delivery, only his instincts are telling him he needs to go now if he is going, so he can get back quicker. He can also feel his front teeth lengthening and knows that he'll have to have Steve over sooner than later, so perhaps that would be the better option.

"I'll call and have some food delivered," he tells the merc with a smile, just noticing that he still has a hand on Wade's chin, "Go relax."

Crystalline eyes study him for a minute before slowly nodding and breaking the contact. He continues to smile as he watches Wade wander into the bedroom and listens to the bed creak as the bigger man lays down and wiggles for a bit. Since he knows that he has maybe an hour before the merc is back up, he grabs his phone and quickly calls the super soldier.

"Hello Peter," the older man answers after the third ring.

"Hey, I need a favor if you have some time." He responds quietly.

"Name it," Steve replies seriously, and he hears him grabbing his pen and notepad.

"Food, I need food, because the amount I had was almost not enough for one recovering super, some bigger clothes, I forgot the fact he's taller than me," he answers before continuing, "and I need to feed sooner than later."

"Got it, be there in a bit, how's Wilson?" the super asks even as he hears him getting into the elevator and telling Wednesday to go to the garage.

"Resting, I think he's in shock, I offered him the main bedroom, and I'll use the smaller one." He replies as he hops up on his counter, running his tongue along the sharpened edge of his teeth.

"You offered him the main room, and plan on using that mess that you call a second room?" There is disbelief in the super's tone, as if he is having a hard time believing that.

Snorting, he retorts, "Yes the second room, it will motivate me to clean it like I have been meaning to anyways. See you shortly."

Steve doesn't even respond to that as he ends the call.

He chuckles and sets to cleaning up the kitchen while he waits for the blonde to show up with food. He is almost curious how the older man is going to get the shopping here when he knows Steve is on one of the motorcycles. Still, if anyone could pull it off, it's Steve. He has just finished the kitchen up, his ears perked to listen for Wade when he hears Steve knocking at the door.

Opening it up, he greets the super, "Hey Steve, thanks for this," he comments as he takes the bags. "Let me fetch my wallet and I'll pay you back."

"No need, I've crashed here without you ever asking for anything, consider it even," the super replies with a slight tilt of his head.

It only takes him a few minutes to put the food away and tuck the sweats out in the living room to give Wade when he wakes up.

His ears perked for his housemate, he hasn't yet told Wade about his once every three months or when he's been injured thing. Actually, he doesn't know when he is mentioning that. Currently, the only person aware of his more spider-like qualities is Steve. Gwen had known, but she's gone, and the super soldier only found out finding him getting ready to bite into a rather vile piece of human trash he was going to leave for the cops after using him for his not spoken of need for blood. He had been surprised when the super soldier had simply offered a wrist without saying anything. Two days later they sat down and discussed it in his living room. Now they sort of have a pattern worked out.

Once everything is put away, he turns back to the older man, arching a questioning eyebrow at the blonde without saying anything because it is something they have done plenty of times, there is no reason for them to actually discuss it.

Leaning against the counter closer to the sink, the older man offers an arm in the same way he has nearly every other time.

Grateful, he moves a bit closer and accepts the taller mans wrist, cradling his friends hand between his before opening his mouth and letting his rather annoying eye-teeth turned fangs unfold. With practice born of all the times he has done this before, his teeth sink into the vein and the first rush of blood always manages to surprise him because it is both so good and weird's him out. Thankfully, he never needs a lot of blood, so it's less than a minute before he stop, running his tongue along the holes to keep them from bleeding and watching in fascination as they heal.

As soon as he lets go of the older man's wrist, he gets the super some juice out of the fridge.

"Thanks," Steve tells him as he accepts the glass.

"You too," he responds with a nod.

"I told Sam I'd do laps with him today." The super tells him, "Take care."

"Have fun, let him complete at least one lap at the same time as you," he jokes.

Smiling, the super just rolls his eyes and heads out.

Closing the door behind his friend, he runs his tongue over his teeth, happy to feel that they have returned to normal. He is really not a fan of his spider need for blood but at least he hasn't had any other annoying things such as pheromones, mating, or what not develop.

He is just considering checking on Wade when his ears pick up the sounds of the merc stirring, but not in the good way. Heading into the room, he finds his friend trembling.

Walking over to the bed, he settles on the edge of the bed and stops himself from reaching out since he knows that waking from bad dreams to being touched is not always the best, "Hey, it's alright," he croons softly, "You're safe. No one is coming in here, promise. If they try they will be surprised by what happens." Quietly he just keeps speaking until those crystalline eyes flicker and open.

"Hey," he smiles, "You hungry? Steve was a charm and dropped off food."

"I'm always hungry," Wade answers roughly, blinking a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes.

"In that case I'll make some tacos," he responds with a grin, standing and stretching.

"Great!" the merc responds with a grin in response, only his eyes seem to darken immediately after and he ducks his head.

"Also, there are some bigger sweats in the living room, I can bring them in here or you can come grab them." He comments, waiting to see what his friend would prefer.

"Ah, umm, I'll get them in a minute," Wade answers, ducking his head.

"Okay, I'll go make us some food," he replies before leaving the room and heading to the kitchen. Good thing he had Steve pick up some more food.

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Tumblr about mine & other peoples stories: JaimiStoryTeller

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	5. Chapter 5: Jogging

Steve's POV  
He was only a little surprised when Peter called him for help. At the same time, it is not as surprising as it could be for two reasons. The first is he is one of the few, possibly only living person, who knows about the younger man's need for blood occasionally. The second is the fact he understands why the younger super wants to try and help the mercenary. After all, as far as the world cares, the one he wants to help is the same sort, maybe even worse.

After his visit with Peter, he heads to the Plaza in order to meet up with Sam. They are planning on jogging together for a bit, they are also planning on having a discussion about the search so far for Bucky.

Bucky. He's not sure what to think of him. They were friends, lovers, partners, _everything._ Now Bucky was lost, missing in both body and mind, and he wants to find him before anyone else does. Outsiders all have opinions based on the situation as they know about it. SHIELD considers him a threat and danger, has decided he needs to be caught and caged, but have not started actively searching since there have been no new targets from him. Hydra wants him back, they want to break him, use him, to turn him into a tool again. He's sure there are other groups that want Bucky too for various reasons.

He's drawn out of his musings when he gets to the plaza because he actually has to take the time to park the motorcycle.

Why did he bring the motorcycle when he could have just jogged? He wonders as parks it.

Climbing off the bike, he glances about for his friend and one of the two people he has trusted with the knowledge that he is looking for Bucky. Spotting the veteran doing stretches by the tree they end up resting by.

"How's it going?" he inquires as he walks over.

"Good," the dark-eyed man answers as he straightens, "We running?"

"Yes," he replies, stretching a bit himself even though he doesn't actually have to.

For the next hour they run laps around the pool. For every one Sam does, he does five. Every time he passes the younger man, he tells him he's passing him, amusement lacing his voice. Each time Sam flips him off, a smile playing at the edge of the veteran's lips.

When they stop so his running partner can get a drink of water and catch his breath, he inquires, "Any news?"

Giving a shake of his head, the younger man answers, "Just rumors, nothing substantial." Nearly finishing the first of the water bottles the black-haired man continues, "Though I have found a few more who would be interested in being recruited among the vets I work with." Shrugging Sam remarks, "Recruiting is a lot easier."

He nods seriously at his answer in regards to Bucky before chuckling, not surprised at all by that.

"Ready to run some more?" he asks after Sam finishes his second bottle of water.

"Hell yeah, I need to keep working at it." The veteran replies, smirking at him before they get back to the running.

Another hour is spent running laps. While he jogs, he keeps Peter's advice in mind, remembering what the younger man said about letting Sam run at least one lap with him. It gives him time to consider the veterans, and the fact that they would like to be recruited. Not that that's surprising. He knows how hard it can be to settle back into civilian life. Perhaps he should see about working with them, though he does not know how much he wants to draw them in since most have already given something up in the line of duty or just trying to adapt.

After he finishes the lap with Sam, he picks up his speed again, going a lot faster now as he works off some of his frustrations as they build up.

Perhaps he should ask Peter for a bit more help, he's not quite as computer genius as Tony, but he is far better than him, maybe he would be able to assist in that way. At the same time, he knows that the youngest of the super heroes is going to be busy dealing with his mercenary on top of everything else he puts himself through. He doesn't want to add to it and over load him.

Damn it. All he wants to do is find Bucky, but for now, for now he will keep up his search quietly. He will keep asking Sam for help since the veteran is not watched as much as he is. He'll ask Peter, because he knows he can trust the younger man despite the fact he is chaotic, because he is also good, and if he explained the situation to Peter, the younger super would definitely help him.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Tumblr about mine & other peoples stories: JaimiStoryTeller

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	6. Chapter 6: Surprise Help

Bucky's POV

He's not sure how long he has been on the run. How long he has been hiding and scraping by and avoiding people. How long it has been since he managed to break enough of the programming to not go back to those who have controlled him for he doesn't know how long. What he does know is he is in pain, not the physical kind the serum takes care of that most the time, except for his arm, but the mental and emotional kind.

Everything is chaos. He is not sure what is real, what is fake, and what is a dream or illusion. The man he pulled out of the water, the one who hadn't wanted to fight him, features in a lot of his memories. Well, the memories that are beginning to slowly break free of the block and the programming. His name is Steve Rogers, he is Captain America, and he used to be a scrawny, sickly person. That he knows is real. The rest of them he is not sure about, what's real or false, and he has no idea how to tell the difference.

So he steals note books and pens, a backpack, and started taking notes on everything, whether it is good or bad. He carries that backpack everywhere. Whenever he feels secure enough in his hiding place, he spends hours writing. Writing so much that his hand cramps. However he notices the more he writes, the clearer his hand writing gets. When he is not writing, he spends a lot of time reading what he wrote, hoping that by going over it over and over again he will jog his memory further, only it never seems to work.

The snow is just starting to melt when he finds an abandoned building in the middle of a massive city. He's not sure what city it is, only that it is somewhere in the north, there is a lot of snow, and it is rather cold. It's the middle of the night, and he was just falling asleep when the sound of wood creaking alerts him that there is something wrong.

He is on his feet, the backpack in his hand when the sound gets worse. Bolting, he heads for the window he came through, only he doesn't quite make it before the loud explosion rips through the air.

"Fuck," he snarls as one of the main support beams slams into his back and regular arm, forcing him to the ground. A second one slams into his other arm, making things difficult for him, effectively pinning him down.

"Damnit," he snarls as he tries to move his mechanical arm enough to get the beams off his body. Unfortunately, because he is distracted, he doesn't notice when the third beam falls, slamming into the back of his head and knocking him out.

When he comes to, he is lying on a bed in a dim bedroom. His backpack is sitting bed beside him. A light blanket is covering him. While his clothes is folded beside him on top the backpack.

Jerking upright, he is concerned about the fact he is only wearing a pair of lose pants.

"It's good you're awake," a feminine voice remarks as he hears a door slide open.

His head jerks towards her, and the first thing he thinks is: she's not human.

"You're right, I'm not human, but you're not fully human either, are you?" she comments as she closes the door. "I brought you some food. Thought you might appreciate it, I have a feeling you have not gotten nearly enough food in recent months, possibly even years."

He can barely stop the low growl when she gets too close.

Her lips tip upwards and she growls back, only it sounds more like a canine's growl than a human. "Soldier to soldier, you are safe here."

"You're a soldier?" disbelief laces his tone. She doesn't look like any soldiers he has ever known. She's petite, probably not even five foot two, with pale golden brown eyes, short spiky sable hair, and mocha skin.

"I was. I got out at the same time as the rest of the pack. They went back to London with the alpha, I came to Canada with my possible mate." She replies, the words not making any sort of sense. Her smile turns playful as she answers, "I'm a sniper."

He snorts in incredulity, then thinks back over some of the women who he had worked with and realizes that it actually makes sense. "How did I get here?" he demands instead.

"I brought you here with the help of my mate," she tilts her head, leaning against the wall, "Technically he carried you after I moved the beams."

His eyes narrow as he rakes his gaze over her again, "How?"

"Burned them, a controlled fire from the inside out so it was only ash on you," she answers, holding a hand up and creating a small ball of flame. "Like I said, not human. You're not pack or clan which is the only reason I did not call for a healer. I considered calling for a gifted or immortal healer, but you smell more human than not." She puts the food she has been holding down in front of him, turning and stating, "Feel free to explore the compound, you are welcome to stay as long as you need, one soldier to another."

Without saying anything else, she leaves room, slipping out as silently as she slipped in.

He is left sitting there staring at the door, he has a feeling she knows a lot more than she is saying. More than that, how did she know he was a soldier and why would she help him as one soldier to another? It makes no sense. Which is very frustrating. It leaves him trying to figure out what she is and why she is willing to help.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Tumblr about mine & other peoples stories: JaimiStoryTeller

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	7. Chapter 7: Trust

Wade's POV

How does his baby boy keep surprising him? Isn't he supposed to be the surprising one? Whatever, doesn't matter. Standing, he looks over himself again, trying to figure out what the pixie sees and why he is willing to help but not getting anything for it. Giving a shake of his head, he darts into the living room to grab the sweats before darting back into the bedroom.

Another shower, he decides, and then he will try one of those creams in the bathroom.

(What about the tacos?)

Right. Tacos. Shit. How had he forgotten that his pixie was making food so quickly?

{Well you are rather stupid.}

(It's not stupidity here, it's the fact he's not used to someone willingly spending time with him. Let's not count Al or Weasel, because one can't see him and the other is suicidal.)

"Will you shut up," he mutters, "No shower right now. Change into the better fitted clothes. Eat tacos. Either watch more TV with spidey or go get my other suit and stuff. Not that I have a lot of stuff to get. Mostly weapons. All the stuff that could mean something has been left with Al after everything that happened with Vanessa. Actually, that was part of the reason he relocated to New York to have his primary home.

Of course the fact his massive crush lives here is great too. The fact his crush offered him the bed room he is in right now is remarkable. That he was being serious is shocking but delightful.

"Tacos are nearly done," he hears the pixie call out.

Quickly pulling the better fitting clothes on, including the socks and underwear, he pads back into the living room and kitchen area. Now that he is sure the offer was real, and that he really is going to end up living with spidey, he takes a closer look around. Noticing where everything is and how it is set up. There is the TV, coffee table and sofa that is the primary feature of the living room. In the corner near the window is a desk, laptop, filing cabinet office set up. Of course there is the window that leads to the fire escape. Probably how spidey gets in and out, and when he walks closer to it, he notices the blood on the edge of it. Nowhere else has he seen blood so far while he's been looking around. Giving a shake of his head, he goes to investigate the kitchen area, discovering it is actually a kitchen and dining room separated from the living room by a bar.

He's only mildly surprised to see the rather large stack of tacos, both soft and crunchy, sitting on a plate.

"Where's this smaller room?" he inquires cause he cannot remember seeing a door to another bedroom.

"Through there," he waves back towards the main bedroom, "Its right next to the closet. Actually, the two bedroom's closets are back to back, and there is a panel between them that is movable for quick exits."

Leaning against the counter, he picks one of the tacos up to eat while he considers why the pixie feels to have an escape route through his extra bedroom. Peter is a hero, but he is not quite a human hero, and that can be very dangerous when humans are not always the friendliest of people to those who are different. He has a feeling that is not the only reason.

"Does Shield have your address?" he suddenly asks.

The pixie almost smirks and gives a shake of his head, "Nope. Every time they think they have it, Tony or I erase it from the system. The team knows where I live, but the only ones that actually come by are Steve, Clint, and Tasha. Clint and Tasha tend only to show up when I have the ear wig in pieces because I am adapting it or something has happened. Otherwise, Steve is the only one who comes by just to visit. He says I am in my head too much. I know he's looking for his old friend, but he hasn't asked me to help, so I am staying out of it right now."

He blinks, startled because he hadn't realized the pixie was that good with computers.

{I thought he was a geek, the science type, not the computer type.}

(Either way he is brilliant.)

{Exactly, so what does he want with a piece of garbage like him?}

'Needs muscle?' he thinks at his voices, 'Yeah, he's super strong, but he has morals that we don't.'

(Maybe.)

"Anyways," the pixie continues, "I sort of have their systems set up to notify me any time they try something. 'Cause I don't trust Shield. Rebuilt or not."

He nods at that, understanding it perfectly well. How the hell had the world's biggest spy organization got destroyed by a second rate terrorist group. Someone did something right. Or wrong.

(Both?)

{Both. Massive explosion and they didn't even invite us!}

"Feeling better?" the pixie queries after they have eaten several more tacos and he realizes that time has passed with them in their respective heads.

"Yeah," he answers after a brief pause. "Why did you make those creams and what not?"

Flushing, the younger man looks up, catching his eyes and responding, "'Cause you mentioned it was annoying and I was in the lab, it gave me something to focus on besides my anger while I waited for Jarvis to run some things for me." The blush gets brighter, "You don't have to use them if you don't want to, and I might have overstepped my bounds, I'm good at that."

He gives a small shake of his head, "You didn't."

{It's not like anyone else with those sorts of skills would have even tried helping your worthless ass.}

(It was a very nice thing for him to do.)

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks as he looks over the pixie's face and realizes that he looks tired.

"This morning while you were out," spidey replies with a stretch, hands reaching high above his head. "I'm not tired, I am antsy. This is the longest I have had anyone in my apartment besides Steve since Gwen died, and I think some of my instincts are reminding me of it."

Frowning, he thinks about that statement, remembering what his baby boy said about friends and family earlier. "Your aunt doesn't come over for long?"

The hero gives a small shake of his head. "No, she says it's too high up. I think it's more along the lines that it's easier just to meet at her house, where she feels more comfortable." Chuckling, his pixie remarks, "I bring her eggs every time."

(Eggs?)

{Is the twisted twink weird? Why eggs?}

Since he is just as curious as his voices, he questions, "Eggs?"

Grinning, his baby boy nods, and motions to the living room after grabbing a soda and passing it to him. "Back when I first became spiderman, there was a situation where an ex-coworker of my dad's became a massive lizard, and I spent a few days hunting him. During that time I kept forgetting to bring the eggs home. The day I finally managed to stop the lizard I brought the eggs home that Aunt May wanted. Since then, I randomly bring her eggs when I come to visit."

{Seriously? 'Deal with lizard, get eggs'? What the fuck sort of plan is that?}

(Sounds like something he would do actually.)

Settling on the sofa, the pixie glances about for a minute before tilting his wrist at the controller for the TV on the other side of the living room. A moment later he quickly jerks his wrist and the remote comes flying back towards him just to be caught right before it hits his face.

"Good trick," he snickers.

Chuckling, his baby boy just nods. "Useful, I don't do it when others around normally. Besides the team and you, there is only one other person who knows about it, and most think I have to have the shooters on to use the webs. Not something I am going to correct."

(Good idea, safe idea.)

{We know, how safe is it? Twisted twink trusts the weirdest people.}

'He can trust me,' he thinks to himself, which is shortly followed by the epiphany that Peter does trust me. Then I will do everything I can to be worth it.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Tumblr about mine & other peoples stories: JaimiStoryTeller

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	8. Chapter 8: Moving: Moments of Doubt

*waves* Merry Christmas or other winter holiday celebrated. Here's my second Christmas update. I hope everyone enjoys and I look forward to any comments or reviews left.

* * *

Wade's POV

They spend some time watching the Golden Girls and chatting, spending time just laughing and joking with each other. They eat food, drink pop, and randomly talk about scenes.

By the time it's dark again, he's feeling a bit better, and figures it's probably time to collect his things. He's still not sure he likes the idea of taking up the primary bedroom but he doesn't want to argue with the pixie about it. Not right now.

(We should tell him we need to get our things.)

{Right. Get to it idiot.}

He groans softly, rubbing a hand across his face and relieved that no skin or puss comes away with it.

"Everything alright?" It's softly spoken as the younger man watches him with wide brown eyes.

"I was just thinking that I need to get my things," he mumbles, feeling suddenly embarrassed as he considers the logistics of it all. Particularly the fact he has a lot of weapons. Wait. Weapons. Shit. "What about my armory?"

(That's a good point. You should have thought of that White.)

{Me? Why me? I'm not the idiot who didn't think of it sooner!} It's rather shrill and makes him flinch.

(Because you're the one who loves weapons most of all.) Yellow snarks and he knows it's not for him.

Peter thinks about it for a bit, almost long enough that he is sure that spidey changed his mind about the invitation.

Rising from the sofa, the younger man motions for him to follow, making his way through the master bedroom and into the second bedroom. Opening the closet, he queries, "Will this work?"

He glances around the room.

(He wasn't joking about this room being cramped.)

{Or a disaster, holy shit, I never would have thought it could be this messy when the rest of the apartment is clean.}

He ignores them as he makes his own observations, including that this room is about as big as the room in his place. "I could use this. It's about the size I'm used to." He declares seriously, sounding more like his usual self.

Peter studies him, as if trying to determine if he's serious or not.

"Really," he states, trying for encouragingly.

{Show the twisted twink your place.}

He doesn't like that idea because his place is a disaster. He'll be paying someone to clean it up since he's moving out and he doesn't want to leave that to his landlord. Of course he doesn't particularly like that manager, so maybe he won't.

"You could come with me," he's very pleased his voice doesn't stutter. He's worried that showing his pixie the apartment will make him change his mind. But then, that could be a good thing. After all, he doesn't want Peter to regret this later.

Brown eyes continue to study him, never leaving his face as the twink nods.

"Well, let me get a shower and changed into something to leave the house in," Peter suggests, turning partly towards the door. "Actually, I can get suited up, it's faster than a cab or what not. We can figure out the logistics getting back along the way or after you determine what you wanna bring here."

He's sort of surprised that his pixie isn't against his bringing his weapons here. But then, that was probably considered, at least in part, prior to the offer being made.

"Good idea," he hums in agreement.

{He'll change his mind the moment he sees your shitty ass place.} White snickers cruelly.

(No he won't.) Yellow denies a breath later. (He's already aware of the fact you commit suicide sometimes. He's not going to be shocked to see the obvious evidence of it.)

It still makes him a bit hesitant, but he wants to get this part over with, this part is definitely going to suck.

He returns to the living room, debating about what he should do while Peter is getting a shower. Maybe help clean up? Except he doesn't know where stuff goes. Still. He could definitely take the dishes into the kitchen since the vast majority are because of him and his insane eating habits. One of the reasons he's so fond of tacos is they are relatively cheap to make compared to a lot of things.

He'll definitely need to help make sure there is plenty of food in the place. He's certain that his pixie isn't eating enough, and he should definitely encourage more eating. Lots of eating. He's good at cooking. He can definitely do that. Hell, he'll even have someone who likes eating practically anything if he's not misremembering.

"Ready," Peter declares as he exits the master bedroom.

Turning towards the living room and the bedroom door, he eagerly looks forward to seeing spidey in his suit. Sure enough, that lovely red fabric still looks great. Maybe even better than it did before he knew what was hiding beneath it.

"Great!" he exclaims nervously.

(It'll be fine.)

{Yeah, spidey is a twisted twink, it's probably not going to change between here and the apartment.}

'Fuck off,' he tells White.

"I, uh, decided to put the dishes in the sink." He comments when Peter comes into the kitchen, glancing around.

Grinning, his pixie nods, "Thanks."

He bobs his head, glancing around and feeling a bit unsure of himself. Now how are they going to do this?

"If you'd like to relocate to the fire escape, we can get going." The younger man suggests, still grinning.

"Huh, oh, yeah," he agrees, turning and heading in that direction. "What happened to my boots?"

"They're by the front door, I shoved them on my shoe drying mat since I cleaned them," his friend replies, motioning towards the front door.

He fetches his boots, putting them on and lacing them up, pretty sure that they are currently way cleaner than they have been in a really long time. He's pretty sure there is things they need to discuss. Since Peter's not currently bringing them up, he's not going to do so either. He's really good at denying things when he wants to. He's got it down to an art form.

{Most the time anyways. Sometimes you're too stupid to comprehend.}

(Ignore him. He's just jealous)

'I'm ignoring both of you,' he retorts, which happens to be the opposite of it. He's not going to react to anything else said, he tells himself knowing that it's probably not a fact. Oh well, it's definitely worth the try.

He joins Peter on the fire escape, scoping out the area around his new place and recognizing it as one of the areas he's considered in the past but decided against because he looks like ground up hamburger on good days and far worse on bad.


End file.
